


Fly

by rockeh17



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, Harry's depressed, M/M, SO, Self-Harm, and he has, butttttt, he's not doing too well, i really dont know how to use these tags, im trying, where harry's universe is crumbling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:54:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5286227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockeh17/pseuds/rockeh17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Well, then. Are we ready?"

"I sure hope so."

They look into each other's eyes, each boy seeing the glimmer of excitement in the eyes of the other's. They close them while they're still looking at each other and, with a deep breath and a wish on the stars, they're jumping off of the roof, speeding towards the ground.

"We're flying, Harry," Louis screams with heart-crushing excitement. Harry's crying. Or maybe it's the tears the wind is pulling from his eyes as gravity does what it's set out to do. Maybe both.

"We're flying, Louis," Harry agrees with the same amount of excitement in his voice. His life starts to flash before his eyes, and every single piece of it is beautiful. Every moment he's shared with Louis is playing across his mind with such clarity, like he has the best tickets in the house to the best movie of all time. Harry is so, so lucky to have such a life.

They're quickly descending towards the ground and Harry doesn't think he could ever be happier than he is in this moment. Then again, he thinks, with Louis, anything is possible.</em>
</p><p>

Now, Harry doesn't know what to do about anything, as his life is spiraling out of control with nothing and no one to hold on to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crushed

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [And Then a Bit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415272) by [infinitelymint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitelymint/pseuds/infinitelymint). 



> Hello! This is my first fic that I've ever written and I'm so excited like wow :D
> 
> I got the "make a person your home" idea from [this lovely epic work of art that almost made me cry](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1415272) and i love that story so much
> 
> Hmmmm.... Idk what else to say??? I hope you enjoy it :)

Harry's heart is breaking and there is no amount of consoling that can fix it. He was left to his own devices when he got the news. He's sitting on the red, patterned chaise in his room, realizing the only direction to go from here is down, or so he thinks. He's spiraled out of control at least thrice today, finding himself lying on the bathroom floor between bouts of crying, his hand stained red from the blood that blanketed his palm after he crushed the glass he was holding while he was on the phone, teeth clenched to save himself from tears. It didn't work.

What will Harry do now? How will he cope? He can barely walk two inches outside of their apartment without being sent into the crippling agony of Anxiety. He’s dreading the thought of having to remove himself from his seat, having to go to the bathroom to wash his hands because the sight of the blood is starting to make him feel sick. He's crying, yet again, and he doesn't know when he'll stop. It's only been seven hours since he got the phone call, six hours since Liam had come and tried to talk Harry through the news. Harry had gotten extremely upset, and Liam had felt it was best if Harry had just had some alone time, so he left. Now Harry's feeling the sense of abandonment he never thought he'd have to feel again.

He had read in a story once that you should never make a person your home. Now he wishes he hadn't done just that, because he's not taking the eviction so well.  
He glances around the room, his eyes stopping on the star lights that hang on the wall. "Light," he says. Darkness, he thinks. He'd stopped crying a couple of minutes ago, but he doesn't think the next cycle is too far away. He places his hands by his sides, using them to prop himself up off of the chair. "Shit," he exclaims as he realizes he's just pushed his bloody hand onto the fabric, calming down as he then realizes that the blood is dry and his hand didn't leave a single smudge on the material. He wishes other things were that simple, that other things can be calmed just as easily.

Harry feels like a well that has ran dry, only the well is placed in the desert, and there are no storms coming to fill him up again. Does he anticipate death? Not that often. But this time? He wishes _it_ were knocking at his door earlier instead of Liam.

He walks to the bathroom and turns the hot faucet handle on. The grey ceramic bathroom floor tile is as cold as ice underneath his feet, but he doesn't notice. He doesn't notice anything right now except for the fact that his hand is a mess, quite like his life. He places his hands under the water, his nerve endings feeling the temperature getting hotter with each second passing. He's going to scald his hands if he's not careful, but maybe he is being careful, scalding his hands being the end result he wants. He starts to clench his teeth together, tears running down his cheeks as he starts to scream. He looks up into the mirror, face swollen and red from the crying he’s been doing. He’s tired. "Pathetic piece of shit," he shouts as he punches his face into a thousand shards that land in the sink in an instant. He falls to the ground as more blood starts to release from his previous wound, as well as from the new one on his other hand that the mirror had just caused. He's maneuvering into the fetal position, desperately trying to calm himself. He remembers the exercise his doctor had once taught him to use when he felt a panic attack coming on, trying to focus on something that always made him happy, even when times were bad. He might as well be committing suicide, because thinking of his happy place is killing him.

Harry starts to scream once again, this time not stopping so easily as before. He's screaming, screaming, screaming, and he doesn't think he'll ever be able to stop. He suddenly has the urge to gouge his eyes out, the reason behind it being maybe if he doesn't have to see how much of a mess his life has become, he doesn't have to worry about it. He starts to scrape at his face, leaving small, bloody scratches with his fingernails each time they connect with his skin. He's feeling relieved, but he's also feeling extremely angry. Angry with himself that he's this way. Angry with the hand that he's been dealt. There's not really anyone to blame, but for Harry, it's all his fault.

Harry's vision is starting to get blurry, which he's used to from the tears that's been secreting from his eyes, but when he brings his hands to his face to wipe them away, the blur doesn't subside. He's blacking out.

"Louis," he whispers.


	2. Toast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the "make a person your home" idea from [this lovely epic work of art that almost made me cry](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1415272) and i love that story so much
> 
> Hope you're enjoying it! :D

"Don't you think this is a bit dangerous,” Harry asks as Louis leads him from their sofa up to the roof of their New York apartment. It was 11:37 P.M. when Harry looked at the clock on their microwave that sits on the counter next to the toaster, Harry's favorite kitchen appliance and one of his prized possessions…

_(They had gotten it on their trip to Disneyland two summers ago. They’d ridden so many rides, seen so many families enjoying their time with each other, they had only wished that they could stay forever. What a fun time that was. “Who doesn't love a good piece of toast?” Harry had asked as he selected the box from the highest shelf in the gift shop._

_There were lots of kids running around, picking up knickknacks and showing them to their parents, their Mickey ears never even moving in the slightest as they’d careened about the inside of the building. Harry's nose was engulfed by the smell of vanilla and candy and chocolate and sugar, his ears delightfully taking in the loud sound of children's excitement and laughter as they made their way further into the shop, away from the shelf by the front he had plucked the toaster from. Harry's face had lit up as soon as he got a better look at the box, excitedly turning to Louis with one hand holding the it as the other pointed out the image on the front. “It's even got Mickey's face on it! According to an old Disneyland legend, we have to purchase it if it has Mickey's face on it, Lou.” Louis' eyes crinkled in the way that Harry loved, laughter erupting from deep inside his chest. “Everything has his face on it, Harry! With that fact being said, I don't think we can afford to buy out the whole world!” Harry giggled. “Me, either. But, while we're on our way to becoming billionaires, we can start with this toaster.” Louis hadn't stopped laughing. “Alright, let's start with the toaster.”_

_Harry and Louis started making their way to the cashier, maneuvering around what seemed like an endless supply of little rugrats. They were all dressed in brightly colored clothes, the magic and excitement that is Disneyland evident on their little faces._

_"Hello," the cashier exclaimed as soon as Harry sat the toaster on the counter. She was dressed in a red vest that rested over a black long-sleeved shirt while distinctly yellow pants took the task of covering her legs. The first thing Harry noticed, though, were the Mickey ears that were placed atop her head of dark brown, wavy hair. Harry was overwhelmed with joy._

_"You look just like Mickey," he said to her, smiling the way that he smiled when he was delighted with something. Louis was so fond of Harry he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. "Thank you! I try my hardest," she said, a soft, sweet laugh escaping from her mouth before her words. Harry notices once she made a move to grab her scanner to run it over the barcode on the bottom of the box that her hands were encased in white silk gloves, fully completing her Mickey attire. Once their item had been scanned, she announced the price and Louis didn’t miss a beat as he pulled out his Pluto wallet Harry had made him get the day before when they were there. ('Lou, it's Pluto,' Harry had said. Louis had started grinning as soon as he saw the one next to it. 'And this one's Mickey!' They each left the shop with new wallets that day, Louis feeling as though his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He loves his new wallet.) He slid over a few crispy bills as the cashier asked if they'd liked their purchase gift-wrapped. "Could you, please," Louis had asked as Harry looked on, a quizzical expression taking form on his face. Louis noticed the look Harry gave him and replied with a look of his own - a smile that had Harry about to melt on the spot. "Happy Apartmentwarming, to us," he'd exclaimed. The grin that had snuck its way onto Harry's face could have probably split it in half if it had gotten wide enough. He wrapped his arms around Louis, bringing him into a hug that he had hoped wouldn't crush the boy. "Happy Apartmentwarming, Lou!"_

_The cashier smiled as she looked on, taping the red wrapping paper together and reaching under the counter for a black and white bow. "Happy Apartmentwarming, fellas," she said as she slid the gift across the counter to them. She gave them an endearing smile as she reached her hands up to straighten the Mickey ears on her head. "Thanks," Harry said. "We're on our way to becoming billionaires, so we figured this toaster would be a good place to start!" Harry looked at the cashier with a charming smile, one Louis had seen directed at him countless times before. Louis had always thought that Harry seemed to come out of his shell when they were together, seeming to take on a different persona whenever the pair went out. He loved it because he loved seeing Harry happy._

_"My, I’m wrapping gifts for future billionaires? I’m honored! Don’t forget that I was the one who sold you this Apartmentwarming gift,” she said with a chuckle and a wink of her right eye. This elicited a grin and a laugh from both of the boys, Harry covering his mouth trying to calm himself down. “We’ll make sure to never forget you,” Louis said in reply. Harry leaned in to the counter, squinting as he tried to read the writing on her nametag. “Eleanor, of Disneyland Gift Shop. All of your dreams will come true,” he said, both of his arms stretched out wide to depict her many dreams, sending her another smile as he leaned over to pick up their package._

_“I’ll hold you to it,” she replied as she slid the package on over closer to Harry’s waiting hands. She bid the boys farewell with one last grin as they headed off with the newest addition to their kitchen, Harry's favorite room in the house. He loved his new toaster. He loved his life, and, most of all, he loved Louis.)_

"I don't think it's dangerous at all!" Louis answered. He's still holding Harry's hand as they walk to the very edge of the roof, sitting down with their legs dangling over the edge once they get there. "Tiny legs, Lou," Harry teases. "What can I say? I'm a munchkin!" Louis responds, glee evident not only in his face, but in his voice as well.

They look out over the skyline. "It's so beautiful up here, Harry," Louis says. Harry looks over at him, watching him as he gazes at the Empire State Building. "We can see everything up here. All the lights.  All the cars. Just look at the cars down there, Lou! They look like ants from way up here!" Harry's positively giddy. Louis positively loves it. "That they do, Harry!"

A few minutes of silence passed as the boys were taking in the beautiful view and they still haven't let go of each other's hand, Louis now drawing circles around Harry's palm with the index finger of his free one. "I love you, Harry," Louis says while his attention is focused on the invisible masterpiece he's drawing. Harry feels like his heart has stopped beating, but, luckily for Harry, as he wouldn't want to miss this moment for anything, it hasn't. "I love you, too, Louis."

Louis sighs contently. He loves this boy so much, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Done,” he shouts. “I’m a right artist, Harry! We’re definitely on our way to the billions,” he says as he shows Harry his empty palm, fondly remembering their old joke. “That you are, Lou. I wonder how much this’d go for,” Harry humors him, looking at his palm. “Don’t know, but I wouldn’t just let it go for anything! $10 million dollars, at least,” Louis declares, solemn look on his face. The two burst out laughing at the same time, falling over on to their backs as they catch their breath.

The laughter dies down, and it becomes quiet. Harry places the palm of his hands under his head for support as they lie on their backs, staring at the stars in complete silence. Nothing much has to be said, really. They could be silent all day, as long as they have each other.

Harry notices a flash of light darting across the sky. “Lou, look! A shooting star!” Louis opens his eyes as soon as Harry calls his name. He sits up, seeing the star flying across the sky, mouth agape with acknowledgment for its beauty. “Make a wish,” he ordered Harry. He grabs Harry’s hand with both of his, holding it close to his heart as he closes his eyes and makes his wish. After he’s done, he opens his eyes to find Harry’s gaze awaiting him.

“What? Did you not make a wish,” he wondered since Harry’s eyes were already open before his.

“Nope. Already have everything I need right here,” Harry replies as he pokes Louis’ chest.

“Alright! Eleven out of ten, Harry! You’ve broken the cliché scale! Hoorah,” Louis says as he leans over to poke Harry’s cheek. “Now, really, what did you wish for?”

“We’re not supposed to tell our wishes, Lou, it’s a secret,” Harry reminds him, finger wagging in his face. It doesn’t take long for Harry to give in once Louis starts to pout, his puppy-dog routine mastered over the years. “I wished for life to stay this way. Forever. Just you and me. You and I,” Harry questions himself. He could never figure out which of the two were right. “Us,” he says after the quiet debate in his mind. “Us. Together. Forever.” Harry notices how fragile Louis looks as he reaches over and pulls him in for a hug. Louis’ chin hooks across Harry’s shoulder, eyes closed as tight as their hug is. “I wished for the same thing, Harry. I wished for the exact same thing.”


	3. Wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got the "make a person your home" idea from this lovely epic work of art that almost made me cry and i love that story so much.
> 
> Hope you're enjoying it! :D

They've been up there for about an hour now, talking about this and that, pointing out things here and there to each other, when Louis starts to wonder what it'd be like to fly. Not with an airplane, no. With their own human power. "It'd be so marvelous to do it, don't you think so, Harry?" Harry is staring up at the night sky, watching the stars as they twinkle almost as brightly as Louis' eyes do. "Yeah, it'd be quite lovely." Louis turns his head to look at Harry. "We should try it," he says with a serious face and a tone to match. "Are you insane," the question leaving Harry's mouth sounding like an exclamation. "Louis, we can't fly! We're mere mortals," he says with a giggle. Louis wasn't perturbed. He was sure that, with the right amount of desire, they could fly, with or without the help of a certain fairy.

Louis stands up and starts jumping, suddenly filled with the right amount of desire to try it.

"Get up, Harry," he requests.

"You're crazy, Lou," but he starts to get up anyway.

"Alright, Harry. Are you ready," Louis asks as he grabs Harry's hand. "There's no turning back after we jump, alright?"

Harry isn't quite sure how he got himself into this mess, but he is sure that he wouldn't want to have it any other way.

"Alright," he agrees.

They're walking from the middle of the roof where they had moved to after they finished their wishes. They get to the edge of the roof, Harry's heart beating as madly as he hopes Louis' is (it is), as they start to check out the ground.

“Well, then. Are we ready?"

"I sure hope so."

They look into each other's eyes, each boy seeing the glimmer of excitement in the eyes of the other's. They close them while they're still looking at each other and, with a deep breath and a wish on the stars, they're jumping off of the roof, speeding towards the ground.

"We're flying, Harry," Louis screams with heart-crushing excitement. Harry's crying. Or maybe it's the tears the wind is pulling from his eyes as gravity does what it's set out to do. Maybe both.

"We're flying, Louis," Harry agrees with the same amount of excitement in his voice. His life starts to flash before his eyes, and every single piece of it is beautiful. Every moment he's shared with Louis is playing across his mind with such clarity, like he has the best tickets in the house to the best movie of all time. Harry is so, so lucky to have such a life.

They're quickly descending towards the ground and Harry doesn't think he could ever be happier than he is in this moment. _Then again_ , he thinks, _with Louis, anything is possible_.

 


	4. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the "make a person your home" idea from this lovely epic work of art that almost made me cry and i love that story so much.
> 
> Hope you're enjoying it! :D

Harry awakes with a strong jolt of his body, the first thing he sees being the blue and gray ceramic tiles that cover their bathroom walls, illuminated by the city lights that shine through the windows of the bathroom. The first thing he feels is the small puddle of thick red liquid that has gathered on the floor by his head from his hands, his wounds having bled while he was out. It's dark outside as he can see from the window in their bathroom, which means Harry must have been out for quite some time, seeing as it had been daytime when he was trying to remove his eyes from their sockets.

It’s so quiet. No T.V. on to serve as background noise, to feel as though he has someone there with him. No music playing to fill the void that the silence causes. Just him, alone. Although, he’s not completely alone – his thoughts are keeping him company. But by the way they’re carrying on, he wishes that his mind would just stop. He moves his left hand through the puddle, idly playing with the liquid as he gathers himself together. He raises his head up from the ground to look around, taking in the scenery of the bathroom in its present state. He gets to his knees, pulling himself up by the edge of the sink. He sees the shards in the sink and starts to tear up a little.

He turns on the faucet and winces as soon as the water makes contact with his hands but he knows he's going to have to suffer through the pain if he wants them to be clean. He doesn't use the apple cinnamon-scented soap that he had gotten for their bathroom ("It'll bring so much character to the room," he had said to Louis.) because he wasn't sure if that would exacerbate his injury.

After he's done washing his hands, he reaches up to the medicine cabinet, the fact that its mirror is broken into a thousand pieces resting in the forefront of his mind. He falters in opening the cabinet’s door once he sees his reflection in the remnants of the glass still held in the frame. His face is swollen, tiny red scratches littered all over the skin. He stares at the boy that’s being shown to him. _Time is so funny_ , he thinks to himself. Hours have passed since he last talked on the phone, since his world had stopped turning. He closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind, but to no avail, his thoughts were still racing.

He opens the cabinet while his eyes are still closed, opening them back up once the door is fully pushed back, hiding the mirror. He takes out the Neosporin and the cotton swabs, opening the cap and squeezing a little bit of the healing goo onto the swab he had chosen. He rubs the medicine over the cuts on his hands, careful to make sure to get each one as he doesn't want them to become infected. At least it's one less problem he'll have to deal with.

He finishes up, putting some bandaids on to protect the cuts, puts everything back into its rightful place, and looks away as he closes the door. He walks out into the hall, standing there for a couple of minutes contemplating what he's going to do. He's finally sure of himself as he makes his way to the living room.

The walls are covered with posters and art and pictures of him and Louis and their friends. Little decorations serve the purpose of sprucing up the shelves that are holding books that he hasn’t touched in ages. He had collected them from their many long road trips that him and Louis have taken. It’s this thing he’d liked to do – go to a bookstore in each city they visited, picking up at least two books that he had always promised himself that he’d read. They’ve been to about eight states; he’s read one book, halfway.

He makes his way through the room, sitting on the sofa that he had gotten from his aunt, the memories of all the nights him and Louis spent sleeping on it at her house rushing back to him. He starts to tear up a bit. Just a little.

He looks around for his phone that he thought was lying on the coffee table in front of him, taking only a few seconds to really remember where it had gone. It landed on the floor by the front door that he had thrown it at a few minutes after Liam left. He walked over to retrieve it, heart falling as he noticed the once pristine screen of the phone he had been given as a gift for his birthday was now shattered as well.

A lot of things are shattering, it seems. Harry only hopes that he can at least be the one thing that's put back together again.


	5. Need

"I need you," Harry says, almost too quiet for Zayn to hear him.

"I'll be over there in ten minutes, tops," Zayn responds.

Harry ends the call and places the phone face-up on the little table by the door, staring at the screen as he gathers his thoughts. He doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, his mind racing through a million thoughts a minute as he stares at the dark screen.

He hasn't made any attempt to clean anything up as his body feels like it's about to cave in on itself. He feels as though there's nothing left inside of him. “How am I even still living,” he wonders to himself. He doesn't let himself go that far, though, as he's trying to get himself together. He just needs someone. Needs someone here with him, not wanting to call Liam because he's at work and he doesn't want Liam to worry about him anymore than he probably already is right now.

He makes his way to the kitchen, in all of its stainless steel glory, and opens the refrigerator to see if there's anything in there that could calm the hunger that's been getting increasingly harder to ignore by the minute. He selects the left over Chinese take-out from two nights before, frowning as the memory from when they purchased it came back to him in screaming color. He gives the refrigerator door a little push so that it will continue to close by itself as he walks over to the cabinet that hangs above the cooking range to get a plate to put his food on.

_(“Harry, what on Earth are you doing,” Louis had asked him as he walked into the kitchen from the bathroom, seeing Harry taking the dishes out of the boxes and putting them up. “That’s a terrible place to put the dishes!” Harry had put the last plate up as he answered Louis’ question. “It’s a wonderful place to put them, Lou, because if they’re way up here, that means there’s less of a chance that you’ll use them all, which leads to there being less of a chance for an extremely messy kitchen.” Harry had smiled through the whole sentence, waiting for Louis’ reply. “Guess I can’t argue with that. But you’ll have a lot of food to clean off of the counters if that’s the way you’re going to be,” he said with a wink, barely dodging the plastic tumbler Harry had sent flying his way. He had just been on his way to return it to its thrower when he felt the weight of Harry’s body tackling him to the ground. “That’s not quite the way that I want it, but I certainly wouldn’t want to live without it,” Harry had said as he tousled Louis’ hair.)_

He selects a plate from the top of the stack and sets it on the counter, right next to the Keurig Louis’ mother had gotten them as a gift.

_(“Happy Apartmentwarming,” Louis’ mom had said as the boys removed the blindfolds from their eyes, mouths agape. “I can’t believe you got us a Keurig,” Louis said, taking in the gift with a surprised look on his face. “This is far too sophisticated for two simple boys such as Harold and myself.” Louis had taken the box from his mom with a smile, placing it on the counter as Harry walked over to it. “A simple tea kettle, preferably black, would have been just as nice,” he offered, smiling as he tipped over the box to read about all of its features. “What, you boys don’t like it,” Jay had said, feigning sadness as she worked her mouth into a pout, puppy-dog eyes on full display. Louis is definitely Jay’s son, Harry thought to himself. “Of course we like it, mom. It’s just you didn’t have to get us such an expensive coffee pot,” Louis says, patting his mom on the shoulder. “It’s not a ‘coffee pot,’ Louis, it’s a Keurig,” his mom had corrected him with a smile. “Yeah, and it makes coffee in under a minute,” Harry said, clearly impressed with the features he’d been studying. “You don’t even drink coffee, Harry,” Louis reminded him. “Still nice to know,” Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Thanks again, mom, but you really didn’t have to,” Louis said as he walked over to Harry, arms outstretched to pull him into a hug. “Nothing but the best for my boys,” Jay had said as she walked over to them to pull both of them into a hug of her own. ‘My boys,’ Harry thought to himself. Louis completed Harry, and his mom made him feel as though he was one of her own. He was so loved, and he hadn’t felt this good about himself - or anything, really - since the passing of his own mother. Harry felt a round of tears coming on, overwhelmed with the care Louis and his family had for him. He was special and he meant something, and they made sure that he knew it.)_

Harry has a great memory, but right now, he’s wishing that he could forget everything and just make it _stop_. He shakes his head, trying to rid his mind of his thoughts as he places his hands on the counter to catch his breath. He doesn’t want to lose it again, especially since he’s gotten a little bit better over the hour that he’s been awake. Everything seems to be spinning and he closes his eyes a few times, trying to blink the dizziness away. He catches a glimpse of the toaster in the corner of his eye and all of his efforts to maintain his calmness fall flat.

He starts to scream, tears flowing freely from his cheeks now as he picks up the plate and launches it at the toaster, missing it by an inch. The plate shatters on the counter, leaving no casualties but itself. He’s thankful as he runs over to the toaster, clutching it in his arms. He loves this toaster, and he’s sobbing uncontrollably. He squeezes his eyes shut as hard as he can because he just wants the pain to go away. He’s tired of this emotional roller coaster and he doesn’t think he can take it anymore. He sits the toaster carefully on the counter, sliding down to the ground as he laces his fingers through his hair.

He wills himself to hold his breath, counting to ten in the process. His eyes are still closed as he reaches nine, opening them on ten. It’s no use.

He jumps to his feet, hands outstretched as he reaches for the take-out box filled with broccoli and beef. He rips the box to shreds, spilling all of the container's contents onto the ground beneath him, lowering himself to the floor as he smashes his hand through his uneaten dinner. He's crying violently, the ability of breathing getting harder to do with each sob. He curls up next to the counter, drawing his knees to his chest and placing his head in his arms.


End file.
